


The Unbelievable Healing Powers of Green Tea With Honey

by louple_booples



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-26
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-18 14:20:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28993575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/louple_booples/pseuds/louple_booples
Summary: Armin Arlert likes staying up into the early hours of the morning owning real estate he couldn’t afford otherwise, staying hidden from the untrained eye with a laptop and a philosophy reading package, theorizing what the true essence of reality is, standing ankle-deep in the ocean and staring at the horizon, and his friends.Armin Arlert likes talking to people on the internet and pretending he’ll know them as well as he knows his classmates, cups of London fog with whipped cream and cinnamon, cats specifically over the age of 3, and Eren Jaeger.Armin Arlert hates feeling heartbroken, watching the friend he’d been in love with for years walk away from him, and being alone.Armin Arlert likes peculiar things, things no one else would like or even think of, things that people wouldn’t pay attention to unless someone pointed them out. Maybe that’s why jean Kierstein likes him so much.
Relationships: Armin Arlert/Eren Yeager, Armin Arlert/Jean Kirstein
Comments: 3
Kudos: 22





	1. The Subtle Romanticism of Grocery Store Lighting

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little note before I begin! This story will be told from Armin's perspective unless stated otherwise! Anyways, I hope you enjoy it! ❤❤❤

MY WINDOW HAS BEEN STUCK IN THE SAME POSITION SINCE I MOVED IN. There’s a small slice of open-air that wafts in and tickles my face while I’m sleeping. I’ve tried moving the stubborn window, but it’s decided that where it sits is where it will stay, and I stopped trying after an afternoon of blisters and sweat that got me nowhere. There are times I’m grateful for it when the temperature drops to a bearable Calibur in the sweet summer months and the gentle breezes make it easier to sleep. But, more often than not, it’s more of a hindrance than anything else. I’m glaring daggers at it as it howls with a brewing storm the weather channels had been warning us about for days. The biggest storm of the year, something like that, I didn’t eat up the report as Mikasa did, I only caught the tail end of it. The last two minutes or so. Luckily, I missed the carnage showcased as the storm moved up along the coast.

The wind is whistling as it passes through the small gap, and I can’t focus on anything else but the awful noise it makes. My fingers, which were furiously typing at my keyboard, transferring my quick handwriting into something I could teach anyone, have stopped and are sitting idly against the keys of F, K, P, and W. The explanation of Plato’s theory of forms seems to fall away as the real world comes to me in a rush of wind and rattling panes of glass. I wonder how long it’s been. My computer reads 7:19, and it’s just now that I realize the tips of my fingers are aching with a familiar tingle. My document, nearly nine pages long, hasn’t been saved in nearly three hours, or so my monitor tells me. My hands hover over the touchpad and click SAVE before I can forget and ruin the best product of our lectures yet.

I can smell pizza wafting in through my half-open door, the artificial light of IKEA lamps making my room cast shadows along the old carpet floor that always needed replacing but was neglected. Mikasa’s leaning against the kitchen island, nursing a warm cup of something that’s steaming against her chest. I can’t read what the mug says from here, but I can guess.

“Armin.” I take the earbuds out of my ears, and they ring with an echo of classical piano and pre-war jazz. I forget what the world sounds like sometimes, so drawn into the sounds of a cello and a clicking keyboard, that I forget that I breathe through my mouth and that our floor creaks when you walk on it. Sometimes, silence is so loud it rings in my ears and makes my head hurt, but now, everything floods into my senses and I realize that my throat is warm and dry and my stomach is yearning for whatever Mikasa’s cooking.

I slip out of my chair and my cactus sock-clad feet gather up static electricity as I trudge out of my cave and back into the beating heart of civilization. I can hear the television rattling on about the Prime Minister’s latest speech, but it’s background noise. Mikasa’s watching it intently, though. She’s always cared more about politics than I have, I only pay attention to politics when asked to debate it or when someone asks who I voted for. Politics is just an over packaged philosophy course, that’s what Hange always says.

“Hi.” I greet back as I slide across the newly replaced hardwood floors to grab one of my water bottles. We have a drawer dedicated to the sheer amount I own. Mikasa only has one and takes it everywhere, but I have more than I have fingers. I can’t help it, they’re my guilty pleasure. I grab one with cartoon mushrooms decorating the sides and run it under the tap with the knob tilted into the blue end. The water fizzes and bubbles when I turn it off, and the illusion of the bottle’s fullness disappears, so I have to turn the tap back on again.

Mikasa doesn’t talk much, and neither do I. We talk enough, but not unless we have to. I’ve never been good with words and she only talks when her words will mean something, so our third member, who I’m realizing is asleep on the couch with his head hanging off and his face growing an alarming shade of red, does most of the talking. Eren talks enough for the both of us, and Mikasa and I are glad for it.

I didn’t know Eren was here, and I wonder how long he’s been here for, and if he greeted me when he came in. I wouldn’t have noticed, anyway. When I study, nothing can stop me. I take a sip from my water bottle and head over to the couch to fix Eren’s sleeping position. He grumbles in his sleep and turns over, facing away from the buzzing TV and me, and I let him. He’s slept here more times than I can count, claiming his mother’s nagging was getting on his nerves.

Eren is the only person I know who still lives with his parents. He claims that he doesn’t want to and he hates it, but I know he’s glad he doesn’t have to do proper adult things yet. The first time he sat in on a discussion between me and Mikasa about budgeting he groaned and left, saying he’d come back when we didn’t bore him. We’d made a mental note not to talk about any adult things in front of him.

“When did he?” I ask, pointing to Eren on the couch and Mikasa fondly smiles. I don’t have to finish my sentence, because my words dry up in my mouth and I take another deep swig of water.

“A few hours ago, he’s been asleep since he got here,” Mikasa explains as she pops the oven door open again, examining the frozen pizza cooking away inside. “He wanted to wait for you.” I chuckle softly, looking back down at the sleeping figure. He never had been patient.

A soft timer goes, alerting us that the pizza’s done. Mikasa slips on a pair of oven mitts she got from her aunt as a birthday present the year she moved out, and I grab the plates. We slip back into our normal silence as she sets the pizza on the counter, searching the drawers for the pizza cutter I got as a stocking stuffer from Eren last year. The only reason he’d gotten something so practical was that Mikasa was with him when he bought it and had a list I’d compiled of everything I needed.

Mikasa and I work like a well-oiled machine, we’ve lived together long enough to create a routine and make an order of the chaos of university students. I’m grateful for the routine, it’s one of the only things that keep me from blowing a fuse. Figuratively, of course. I don’t know if I’m capable of raising my voice above a gentle lull. I’m not a loud person, not like Eren, who shouts more than anything else. From what my professors describe me as, which is only one professor because I major in philosophy and they’re the only philosophy professor at our small university, they say I’m like a cat, I’m quiet until I find something I don’t agree with or want to keep from others, and I’m overlooked until I make myself known. It isn’t a bad comparison, only slightly offensive.

I set the table the way Mikasa likes, she likes things done a certain way, and I have no qualms with any of them. They make me go out of my way sometimes, but as long as she’s happy, I’m happy. The apartment is more Mikasa’s than mine. The only room that looks remotely like anything I like is in my bedroom, with my posters and pictures and painted scenes of the ocean that took me my first summer in this apartment to complete. It’s still not completely done, but I’ve been too busy to buy the paint and finish it. So I pressed my overflowing bookshelf against the empty and unfinished patch of wall, only spotting glimpses of it as I enter and exit my room, and with conscious effort, I could ignore it.

Mikasa has divided the pizza into eight equal pieces, perfectly cut and measured. She gives me a look, and I nod. Mikasa and I, through unwilling awkward nights without Eren to buffer conversation, created a language for the two of us. It would be classified as secret, but secret seemed too vile of a word to use for something as simple as a look and a nod.

I lean over the couch and shake Eren awake. I make sure to jump back when he flails his arms out. He has a habit of attacking whoever wakes him up. I’d learned it the hard way back when we were kids and everything was easier. Mikasa and I both had become masters of avoiding Eren’s half tired attempts at self-defense.

“Armin?” Eren asks and I give him a small smile, I don’t know what to say to him, so I don't say anything at all. Instead, I flick his forehead and gesture towards the kitchen with my head. Eren, still wiping the sleep from his eyes, trails along behind me, a blanket wrapped around his shoulders. It trails behind him like a cape, and I chuckle into the lip of my water bottle. It’s strange, I’ve known him since we were kids and yet he’s barely changed. I don’t think I’ve changed much either, same with Mikasa. We’re all the same people, we just know more and stress more about life and fear death.

I sit at my spot at the head of the table while Mikasa sits across from Eren, the way it’s always been. I don’t like sitting across from an empty chair, it’s like staring into the void. But I deal with it because Eren and Mikasa have always sat like this, and it feels like intruding to ask them to move around just because I don’t like staring at the back of a chair while Mikasa gets to look at Eren.

Instead of staring into the void, I stare at the extra toppings Mikasa added to the pizza to make it look less bare-bones than it is. I appreciate that she added little slices of green and red pepper to my slices. Eren digs into his pieces like he hasn’t eaten in days, but I know that isn’t true. He sent me a picture of his breakfast this morning while we compared our daily coffee orders. He gets the same thing every morning, and so do I, I’m not sure why we compare them, but I’m not complaining.

I suppose it’s a silent challenge for us to change our lives in one of the only ways we can. Neither of us has, though. And I don’t think that’s going to change. Not for a long time.

“You were in your room for four hours,” Eren points out after he’s finished scarfing down his pizza and I’m just finishing my first slice. “What were you even doing?” He asks like he doesn’t know already, and I smile into my pizza.

“Studying,” I reply back.

“Not taking care of himself,” Mikasa replies back in the same heartbeat. I turn to give her a small glare. Mikasa and I don’t agree on some things. Mainly, my long periods of hyper fixating on schoolwork for hours and discarding my own health to produce good results. Studying and neglecting my health means the same to her, and to many others, the only one who can’t seem to find the correlation is myself. But just because I acknowledge it doesn’t mean I’m going to make a move to fix it. I’ve done it for so many years that it’s become a habit, and habits are hard to break.

Eren looks between the both of us as we stare holes into each other. “What are you studying?” It’s obvious he’s trying to draw the topic away from the fuse that is Mikasa when she’s anxious about something -or someone, in this case, me- and he’s turning to look at me. I find myself gulping, looking at him is so much harder than talking to him through a phone. Because I can see him, all of him, and he can see me.

I don’t do well with seeing people. Or, better yet, with people seeing me. Especially him seeing me.

“P-Plato’s theory of Forms.” I stutter out, Eren nods, even though I know he doesn’t know what I’m talking about. He’s tried to understand philosophy, just as I’ve tried to explain it to him, but it just doesn’t click the way engineering does with him. His brain is all wires and fuses, while mine is like the tides, constantly changing and moving.

“Well, you’re done studying now, right?” He asks hopefully, and my eyes dart back to my bedroom, at the dull glow of my laptop screen and my unfinished document waiting for me, seeming to beckon me back into the growing darkness of my cave, only to breathe in air that smells like something other than the candle I have burning on my side table when my notes are finished. But when I look back at Eren to deny his words, and I catch a glimpse of the pout he’s giving me, I can’t say no. I never could say no to him. I feel my cheeks start burning as I slowly nod my head and finish the last of my pizza in quiet shame. Eren’s pout fades into a resilient smile and I have to leave the table. 

“You guys have all your provisions for the storm, right?” Eren asks Mikasa, who shakes her head no, mumbling about how we were both going to go today, but I’d seemed to have forgotten and I shoot her a small shy smile from the sink, a silent apology. She smiles back at me and all is forgiven.

“I was going to go now, why don’t we go together? You’ll make sure I don’t forget anything, right, Armin?” He looks at me and I lower my head to hide my face as my lips pull back into a wide smile at the request. I give him a slightly shaky thumbs-up, he doesn’t seem to notice the tremor, which I’m thankful for. He’s never been the observant type, I’m very thankful for that.

“I’ll try my best. Just don’t make me make you recite everything you need this time.” I manage to get out, and Eren laughs. The last time we went shopping, I created a song for him to remember everything he needed, to the tune of Dance of the Sugarplum Fairy, something he won’t let me live down. I’m not sure if he finds the fact that I made a song or the fact that I listen to Tchaikovsky more hilarious, maybe it’s a mix of both.

“Don’t make Armin do that again,” Mikasa adds as she cleans up Eren’s dishes, planting them in the sink where my hands are already working. “It was painful to watch.” I nod to her gratefully. The things I'd do for Eren. I’d walk to the ends of the Earth for him if he asked me to.

I’d do anything if it meant seeing him smile just a little longer.

-ˏ͛⑅ ‧̥̥͙‧̥̥ ̥ ̮ ̥ ⊹ ‧̫‧ ⊹ ̥ ̮ ̥ ‧̥̥‧̥̥͙ ⑅ˏ͛-

THE CAR SMELLS LIKE EREN’S COLOGNE AND VANILLA BEAN LATTE. The leather seats are cold when I climb in the back seat of Eren’s second-hand Honda. There are grey clouds brewing on the horizon, hued with dark purple that makes them look like moving bruises, slinking sinisterly across the sky. The streets are empty, the dinner rush nearly over. We pass full driveways as Eren easily navigates our suburbia, I can see outlines of families eating dinner together through thin curtains. Under the dull glow of the streetlights and the ever-darkening sky, I realize how much I miss my parents. How much I miss sitting around our old table and talking about things that wouldn’t matter in the morning and pretending the world was ending just so we could find something to talk about. The nearly silent dinners I have with Mikasa seem pitiful after gazing in at a full family seated around a table, looking perfect from my vantage point behind a tinted window is a car going 10 kilometers above the speed limit.

Eren’s the only one of us with his driver’s license, which surprised all of us. We all made a bet back in high school, and we had all thought Mikasa would get hers first, but she didn’t need to, and so she didn’t. She’s a sucker for exercise and everything we need is within walking distance. I just don’t like driving cars. I don’t like sitting in the front seat, it makes me uneasy. I don’t like being able to see the lines, my paranoia goes through the roof and suddenly everything’s a threat. I haven’t even started getting my license, and I don’t think I ever will. I’m fine with taking the bus or the train everywhere, even if it means getting my clothes soaked through or the tips of my finger freezing.

Mikasa suggested I talk to someone about why the idea of getting in a car terrifies me, but there are some things I’d rather not know. Sometimes things just are what they are. And besides, it doesn’t affect my daily life to the point of annoyance. It’s just something I’ve adapted my schedule to accommodate. I know the transit system better than anyone and I’m such a common entity on the buses, all the drivers know me and often ask how my schooling's going. 

Unlike most people who visit supermarkets the size of lecture halls, we stick to a small business run by a friend of ours just a few blocks over. It’s nearly pointless to drive there since it’s so close to our complex, but with us buying groceries for three instead of two, the extra storage space in Eren’s trunk is a gift. Mikasa and I can usually handle the weight of our groceries, and never shop all at once, picking up what we need when we need it, to avoid loads and loads of bags. But when it comes to a storm, you never know how long they’re going to be, so stocking up is your best option, even if you have to cut back on leisurely activities next month.

Eren pulls into one of the three parking spots. It’s been reserved as our spot, the one closest to the busy street. Eren pulls in like he’s done it a thousand times, he could probably park like this with his eyes closed if he tried hard enough. 

Eren pulls the car into park and the gentle hum of the engine and his latest metal obsession fades away until all I can hear is the mixed sounds of us all breathing as Mikasa grabs her wallet from the bag she brought with her. Eren pops the door open and we both follow suit. It’s been silently decided among the three of us that Eren leads the group and Mikasa and I will follow; that’s how it’s always been and how it will always be. I don’t mind it that way, the less I have to decide for myself, the less I have to think and worry about. Eren leading the group, despite making people overlook me, is better for my mental health.

We all hop out of the car, and I wrestle with the stiff seat belt to pull it off me so I can slide out onto the stiff sidewalk. It’s all cracked and even though I know it’s a silly superstition, I avoid the cracks and lines anyway. Ever since Eren told me I’d break my mother’s back if my feet even so much as touched a crack, I’d been careful ever since. I know better now, but the illusion of childhood naivety still draws me in like a siren.

The store is empty when Eren pushes the door open, and I have to squint against the artificial lighting that steals time away and you’ll never know if you’ve been inside for twelve minutes or twelve hours. Time stops existing as soon as I set foot inside, and it’s like the outside world never existed. 

The smell of thyme and seaweed invades my nostrils and despite already eating, my stomach starts rumbling. Never go grocery shopping when you’re hungry, that’s what my mother always told me. I understand why. Everything I see, I want to buy and eat.

Mikasa pulls out a small piece of paper with her messy scrawl tainting its surface. I catch a glimpse of it and I commit it to memory. “I’ll get the rice.” Mikasa nods.

“Eren?” She’s gesturing for him to follow her because when he’s around, she can’t stand him not being in her sight. I’m not sure what it is, but she’s dedicated herself to him like a bodyguard, I know Eren doesn’t like it, he’s even said so, but that hasn’t stopped her.

“Mikasa, stop babying me!” Eren complains. “I’ll go with Armin.” I tense up but find myself nodding. Mikasa casts Eren a worried look and he rolls his eyes.

“I’ll be fine. Armin will be sure to save me if the shelf comes tumbling down.” I nod again because I don’t know what to say to that, I can’t say anything to that. Mikasa doesn’t like the idea of splitting up, but the store is small and she can’t refuse or Eren will not hesitate to cause a scene.

“Fine.” She relents. “Meet by the checkouts in 30 minutes.” Eren and I both salute jokingly, but Eren adds a little “yes, captain” to add dramatic flair and then he’s grabbing my arm and pulling me towards the produce section. I’m stumbling over my feet as he rushes away from our extremely caring friend.

My breathing returns to normal when I’m surrounded by passionfruit and pineapple. I run through the list tucked away in my memory and move around like a robot. I know these aisles so well. I’ve lost track of how many times Mikasa has asked me to pick up a few odds and ends on my way back from my classes.

Eren follows after me, only stopping when I tell him he needs something.

“You need bananas,” I tell him just as he’s about to pass them. He gives me a sheepish smile and grabs a bundle of four as I finish inspecting pears. I love pears, especially when they’re so soft I can bite into them and drag my teeth along. I have a method for testing pears. I dig my nail into the skin and see how much juice comes out. If barely any comes out, it’s not ripe. If juice overflows, it’s ripe and going to be eaten within the next 24 hours. Pears never last long in our apartment.

“I swear you’re psychic or something,” Eren mumbles to me as he watches me add the last pear into a reusable shopping bag.

“You’re holding your list outwards,” I tell him honestly, gesturing to it with my free hand. Sure enough, the sticky note is facing me, and despite the writing being upside down, I can recognize the curve of his "n's" and the strange way he writes his "a’s". Eren’s writing is like him, totally different than anything I’ve ever come across. He’s the first person I recognize in a crowd. Maybe it’s because I’m always looking for him, but that’s another matter altogether.

A haunting pop ballad that stopped being mainstream three years ago echoes through the rice aisle as I inspect the brands. I don’t have a preference, but if something’s on sale, I’d prefer it. I’ll save money whenever I can unless it’s on potted plants and water bottles. Eren, however, has never had to budget. He likes what he likes, no matter the price. If I spent like that, I’d get a stern lecture from Mikasa. It’s all too easy to convince myself the off-brand stuff tastes just as good as the stuff my mother used to buy.

My fingers dance across the rice packages, eyes drinking in the price and running the numbers of tax in my head. On a normal day, this is the most math I’ll ever do, despite my knack for it, I’ll never adore it like I adore philosophy, much to my parent’s poorly hidden disappointment.

Eren’s basket rattles when he drops a package of rice in, and I look over him. His hair, unwashed for two days, seems to shine under the light of an artificial sun. He looks pretty. 

“You know that rice costs over $7, right?” The words slip out before I can think of them, and Eren looks over at me with furrowed brows. I feel my cheeks heat up as he looks at me. I can’t even look at him while he looks at me, his eyes are full of so many secrets I want to explore that I get lost in them. Pools of green I’d spend hours gazing into. Sometimes, I think the meaning of life is hidden in them.

He wants me to clarify. “It’s a lot to pay for rice.” I clear my throat and point to the package I’d decided just now to purchase. “The quality of these packs of rice is nearly identical, but since the name has ethical and professional appeal to the public, its prices are higher because the demand for a trusted company’s rice is in high demand. It isn’t any different from the cheaper stuff.” I’m rambling, so I shut myself up.

“And you save $5.” I finish my thought through my hand, staring at Eren as he grabs the package I’d tapped during my explanation. He holds them up to examine them both like he’ll be able to tell the difference between them if he squints hard enough. Even though his brows are stitched together into a contemplative expression, he looks like an angel. My pulse thunders in my chest as I watch him toss each bag and check how much is in each, using the brain he likes to hide whenever I’m in the room.

The harsh glow of the lights above my head accents the acne scars on his face, the ones he picks at when he’s nervous, and the redness of his nose that flares up when it gets too cold. 

It occurs to me that I’ve never seen him look so beautiful.

And only I get to see him contemplating and comparing rice prices. Like it’s a moment made just for us.

Eren’s face screws up in determination as he selects the pack of rice I suggested, and a warm feeling floods my chest. He looks so happy, and I made him feel that way, no matter how indirectly. He looks happy to be alive, something I only feel 60% of the time, and then he turns to look at me, and my heart stutters in my chest.

“God, I’m so in love with you.”

The smile falls away and his eyes widen, just as the words leave my lips. I slap a hand over my mouth, hoping that somehow, that will take the words back. Eren’s staring at me and I want nothing more than to be swallowed up by the monotone, cold floor beneath my sneaker-clad feet.

“W-What?”

In the distance, I hear the cracking of thunder. The storm’s just begun.


	2. The Feeling of Heartbreak in the Back of a Second-Hand Honda

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the support on the first chapter! It means the world to me! 
> 
> Also, I apologize for the time between updates. Balancing school, work, and making sure my mental health is okay is taking a lot out of me. But I'll try and update more often! 
> 
> Anyways, I hope you enjoy it!

THE RICE PACKAGE FALLS TO THE FLOOR, ECHOING IN THE RECESSES OF MY MIND AS EREN STARES AT ME. I don’t know what he’s thinking, I can’t tell what he’s thinking, I can always tell what he’s thinking; he’s an open book, a book I’ve been learning to read since I was four years old. But suddenly, it’s like I’m back at square one, and at this moment, I don’t know him. The boy looking at me is a stranger and that lights a feeling of panic in me that I’ve never felt before. I feel like I’m floating through the vacuum of space and my rocketship just fired up and has left me behind.

Neither of us moves to pick it up, just staring at each other as the ground between us seems to crack and split open, swallowing shelves of rice and shoppers who can’t see that our world is crumbling. Oh God, what have I done? 

The silence is thick and it’s forming a wall between us, he’s getting farther and farther away from me and he doesn’t even know it. Or maybe he does and he’s doing it on purpose. If I don’t reach out soon, he’ll be too far away.

“Eren,” I try to speak, to bring him back. My voice makes him flinch, I’ve never seen him flinch before, not even when the neighbourhood kids were sneering at him, calling him names. Not even then, had I seen him look so terrified. Not when his parents would fight, not when he watched a movie he definitely shouldn’t be watching. I realize that until today, I’d never seen Eren afraid.

“This has to be a joke.” His voice finally comes out, but I don’t know if it helps. It sounds far away, like he’s not really there. Or maybe that’s just me, and I’m imagining it. I blink, realizing that Eren’s talking to me, he wants me to answer him, to say what he wants me to say. I want to, too. I want to laugh and say ‘surprise! I sure got you this time, huh?’ But the words aren’t working and I can’t say it. Can I really lie to him about this? Do I have the ability to? I know I want to, because he wants me to, and because I want to save myself. But, when I try to speak, I can’t form the words I desperately want to. My body is betraying my mind. All I can do is watch.

“It’s not.” Why can’t I lie to him? I never had been able to. I’d never been able to keep secrets from him, just hiding the fact that I’m in love with him for most of our lives was the hardest thing I had to do. I want to stop talking, I want to silence myself. Talking won’t save me. Eren doesn’t listen to reason, his emotions churn in him like angry ocean waves. They know no bounds or mercy. He lets them control him, and he’s freer because of it. I used to be jealous of how carefree he seemed, while I was stuck inside the steel confines of my own mind, looking at the world through three feet of glass. But now, I’m letting my emotions take hold, and it’s so much worse than I always thought it would be. I find myself longing for the same pane of glass because it gives me some cover and distorts my reflection. But now, Eren can see right through me, and that terrifies me.

“I’m in love with you.” He’s staring into my soul and what’s inside it scares him. I scare him. But I can’t stop. “I’ve been in love with you since we were five.” The words are so true that it hurts, bI didn’t even realize it had been that long, and I’m just as shocked as he is.

“Stop.” He whispers, looking shell-shocked. Normally, I would listen to him and stop as soon as he asked me to. But I can’t count how many nights I’ve laid awake, staring at my ceiling, wishing I’d told him. And now that I’m feeling brave enough to tell him, I won’t stop myself. Not anymore.

My therapist told me to have faith in myself. This isn’t what she had in mind, but it’s close enough.

“You don’t have to feel the same, I don’t expect you to, but I need you to know.” The package of rice lays forgotten on the floor, the label staring up at us as I talk. “I’m in love with you, Eren.” I say it again, and that seems to make it real. It solidifies it, and I know that there’s no going back after this. For either of us.

I don’t know how long we stare at each other, waiting for the other to talk first. I’m panting, and it feels like I’ve just run a marathon. I’m standing on the edge of a precipice, unable to see the bottom. If I squint, I can see Eren standing on the other side, but I can’t see his face.

Finally, after centuries of prolonged silence filled with hope and future heartbreak, Eren clears his throat. “I’m going to go find Mikasa.” He points behind him and then he’s turning away and running away. He vanishes behind the aisle, leaving me gazing at the packages of rice in my hand, staring uselessly up at me.

Why didn’t you stop me? I ask it, even though I know it won’t respond. I ruined everything, didn’t I? Just like I always do.

Suddenly, the rice doesn’t matter. It’s rice. The prices lose meaning. Oh God, I ruined everything. Suddenly, the friendship Eren and I had and the bag of rice reflecting the light overhead have a lot more in common than I first thought. Discarded, staring at an empty ceiling, expecting it to give answers when none exist. 

There are people moving past the open mouth of the aisle, wondering why a boy is staring at a package of rice and trembling, but I don’t find myself caring. It’s like those people don’t exist, and I’m the only person in the world. 

It’s so lonely here, it’s the first time I’ve felt alone in years. Truly alone. There’s always been someone, whether it’s Mikasa putting a hand on my shoulder and telling me to go to sleep, or Eren calling me at odd hours to explain something he’d just figured out, or strangers through a screen who think I’m more put together than I really am. But now, under grocery store lights just after 8 PM., I’m truly alone. I feel like an echo of someone more successful, more attractive, and better than I’ll ever be. I feel like a hermit crab without its shell, a clownfish without an anemone to hide from the world in, a baby turtle experiencing the open ocean for the first time. A terror that feels like falling grips me in its tight fist.

I need to move, I need to get out of this aisle where oxygen doesn’t exist. I leave the rice package where it is, it’s cursed, and I don’t want anything to do with it, not anymore.

I manage to locate Mikasa and Eren looking between pears, trying to find the best options. I stop in my tracks because I’m realizing how good together they would look to anyone passing by. A young couple buying groceries. And the thought makes me sick to my stomach because I’ve wanted that for years, and now I’m watching it and realizing that no one will ever see us that way, no one ever would.  
I’m not sure what breaks my heart more, realizing it or watching it.

I have the urge to leave, to march home and bury myself in work and never see the light of day again, become a phantom of the night, hidden from prying eyes and the person who rejected me. It’s not even the fact that he rejected me that hurts, it’s how horrified he was when he did so. Like I’d done something awful. No one had ever looked at me like that before like I was some kind of monster.  
Is that what I was to him now?

Before I could try and escape this prison, Mikasa catches my eye and waves me over. I feel silly walking over empty-handed, riceless. I approach her side, avoiding Eren completely, even though it hurts me to do. I don’t like avoiding, especially when he’s the one person I thought I’d never had to cast aside.

“No rice?” She asks me softly as Eren moves farther away to grab apples, a sly move on his part. I look away from him and meet Mikasa’s stormy grey eyes. She’s beautiful, I never say it enough, and she doesn’t hear it enough, either. She’s beautiful in the way that a marble statue is beautiful. It’s beautiful to look at from far away, but when you get closer, you see every dent and smudge of dirt, but it’s breathtaking anyway.

“Nothing was on sale.” I lie easily. I’ve never been good at lying, I’ve always considered it an absolute moral law. But, I’d rather lie than stew in the misery the truth creates. Mikasa nods and finishes picking out the pears and drops them in the basket she must have grabbed when Eren and I dashed off, lost in our own world.

“Armin,” she starts and I blink, I zoned out again. I’m not looking at anything in particular, just at the array of pears before me, showcasing their yellow, green, and red hues like a painting. “Are you okay?” She asks. She’s always asking that if I’m okay. It’s heartwarming that she cares so much, how she’s always cared.

“Just thinking about the notes I have to finish.” It isn’t a total lie, but it still stings in the pit of my stomach. Maybe I’ll tell her later when Eren isn’t around. I hate that I’m keeping secrets, something we promised we’d never do. But I need to protect myself and to protect Eren from myself. 

Mikasa doesn’t question it further, even though I can tell she knows I’m lying. She’s always been able to tell. I’m glad she doesn’t press further, I don’t feel like crying where other people can see me.  
My phone vibrates in my pocket again, but I ignore it as we all head to the cash register and check out. Eren forgot his wallet, and I draw mine out without hesitation like I always do. But Eren makes a face and Mikasa pulls hers out and pays, and I can see the relief cross his face. I ignore the stabbing pain I feel as I take a bag with the milk and fruit, while Mikasa handles the big packages of paper towels and Eren holds the bag of baking goods.

The silence is thick, on my end at least. I don’t say anything, even when Mikasa says something witty and Eren makes a joke that would normally have me rolling on the floor in hysterics, if only to make him feel like his joke was funnier than it really was. 

I’d never realized until now, but I’ve been doing so much for Eren without noticing. And I’m only seeing it now that I’m not doing it. Me opening the car door for him, having a playlist of his favourite songs on my phone, something I can't bring myself to delete even as I stare at it and think he’ll never want to listen to it again. The number of times I’ve put a blanket over him when he stays over, the times I stay up way later than I should be, helping him study. My purpose is gone, and I’m not sure what to do with myself.

Eren puts on the radio and he and Mikasa chatter mindlessly as I open my phone, pulling up the only thing I feel comfortable doing right now. Talking to people who don’t know about my problems.

Pears&Peaches: Hey, has anyone heard from Tide today??? I have a crisis and he’s the only one who can help!  
Nookthecrook: nah, he hasn't been on in a while, probably busy with school.  
Sunflowervol6: stupid school >:(  
Pears&Peaches: Just because you’re not in school anymore, doesn’t mean it’s stupid, Sun!  
Sunflowervol6: yeah, yeah.  
TideisHigh: You were looking for me, Peaches?  
Pears&Peaches: TIDE!  
Sunflowervol6: Speak of the devil and he shall appear!  
Nookthecrook: good to see you, Tide!

The chatroom fills up with greetings from the ten people that make up our Discord server, everyone’s excited to see me, a heavy contrast from right now. I don’t normally talk to them when I’m around Eren and Mikasa, since they don’t know I’m talking to a bunch of random people over the internet. It’s not that I need their permission or anything, but they’ll try to get themselves involved. And I want something just for me and me alone. Everything about me is shared with one of them, but this is just mine. And I need something that’s just mine right now.

Pears&Peaches: Can I come to your island tonight and take inspiration from your step because I have no idea what to do with mine still??  
TideisHigh: Sure, I have to finish up some notes first then I’m all yours!  
Pears&Peaches: You’re the best, Tide!

It’s so much easier to pretend to be fine through a screen. No one can see my face and no one asks questions. It’s always easier to make a text sound happy than to make your voice sound like it isn’t crumbling. They don’t know me, not the real me, anyway. It’s so much easier to hide pain when no one knows about it in the first place.

I haven’t been talking to this group long, only two months or so, since I made the choice of purchasing Animal Crossing: New Horizons. I joined the day after I bought it, because I had no idea what to do and because Eren had suggested I look up tips online. I’ve become the president of this server, even though I only started recently. I’m an advice centre for everything to do with the game, because I spend most of the time I’m not studying or reading, playing it. It’s a lifestyle, even if it’s only mine.

With the white noise of the radio and a song about getting lost in the night and living like it’s your last day alive, I can tune out everything around me as Peaches shows me photos of their island and ask how it can be improved since I’ve become quite the designer on mine. I could post it and make money off of the layout, or so Sun says. I’m not sure if I believe her, but it’s a nice thought. I might try it sometime if I’m feeling brave. But I don’t know if I’ll be feeling brave for a long time.

Eren puts the car in park and we’re outside my complex. Mikasa starts to get out but Eren points to me and says something I’m ignoring as I struggle to pull the seat belt out from the buckle. The belts are old and rusted back here and are hard to maneuver. 

Mikasa leaves the car and brings the bags up to the door and heads inside before I’m able to wrangle it out. I go to open the door but Eren locks it and I’m stuck in the car with him. I turn to look at him with a shocked expression, he only does this when he needs to be heard and won’t settle for anything less.

“Eren unlock the door, please.” I don’t look at him, but I can feel him looking at me through the rearview mirror. I don’t want to talk to him, I want to get as far away from him as possible and not speak to him until I’ve cried like I deserve to.

“Not until we talk.” He says sternly.

“About what?” I know about what.

Eren gives me a look and I gulp, fiddling with my fingers.

“I don’t know what you want me to say.” I stutter out, and I curse how small my voice sounds. Like I’m a little kid again, incapable of defending myself, waiting for my knight in shining armour to save me. But he won’t save me this time, this time, the knight is my enemy. “I’ve already said enough.” I bite down on my lip so I won’t do something stupid like yell at him or break the door handle trying to get out of the car.

“How long?” He asks, his hands tightening around the wheel. 

“What?”

“How long have you known?” He asks. I feel my cheeks flush as I think about it.

“Three years ago was when I realized. That year we went cliff jumping and you made me jump, seeing the smile you gave me when I finally jumped and the way you cheered for me made me realize I never wanted to see you sad. To see you hurting. And I wanted to be the only one you smiled at like that.” I had been terrified that day, I refused to jump, preferring to stay and read my book. It had taken two hours and Eren promised to get his Mum to make me a special batch of cookies for me to leap through the summer air, landing in the turquoise waves and submerge myself in the ocean I loved so much. That was the first time I’d ever become one with it. I jumped twenty more times after that, lasting longer than Mikasa and Eren, but I couldn’t get enough, because Eren always cheered for me every time I resurfaced. It made me feel like I could do anything if he was standing beside me. And it was that night, laying in my room, staring out the window at Eren’s house next door, that I’d felt this way since we met all those years ago.

He laughed cynically, shaking his head. “Three years.” He mumbles to himself, in shock, I think. I clasp my hands tightly in my lap, straining against myself.

“I’m sorry.” I blurt out, looking up at him for the first time since we got in his run-down Honda. His eyes widen at my outburst. I’m not a loud person, I usually keep my opinions to myself, every word is mindful and meaningful. 

“You can’t help what you feel.” He says eventually, after a minute of us looking at the other through broken glass, the mirror showing us the soul of the other disrupted. I can’t see him properly anymore, not as I used to when everything was decided and everything was easy. Now, it’s like looking at a stranger, but my heart still beats faster when he looks at me with his intense eyes, the irises on fire, burning with a tenacity I could only dream of having.

He’s not mad at me. I don’t know what he is. I can’t read him. The open book I’m used to is closing itself to me. It seems dramatic, but it feels like I’m losing a part of myself. The Eren part of me. The best part of myself.

“I didn’t want to believe it.” He says, shaking his head. I tilt mine at him, unsure what he means. “How could you? When you’re you, and I’m me.” I still don’t get it. What does that have to do with it? The whole reason I fell in love with him was that he was him.

“We wouldn’t work.” He tells me, and suddenly I hate how blunt he is.

“W-What?” I stutter, shocked. He turns back to look at me properly. The rearview isn’t enough anymore, but I wish it was. I want to hide behind its slightly chipped and dirty reflection. He can see all of me. I feel exposed. In a way I’ve never felt before.

“You and me. Besides, you’re just confused because you’ve known me for so long.” He’s denying it, thinking that if he denies it, it will undo it and everything will go back to normal. It hurts me that he’s so eager to push it to the side, to ignore it, to snuff out the flame under his Nike running shoes. I feel discarded, and I want to get away from him.

I want to go along with it, cover it up like some broken mirror and pretend it isn’t there, but that’s lying to myself. And I’ve lied to myself enough. I’m done lying.

“I’m not confused,” I tell him, harsher than I mean to. He blinks, not expecting it. “Can you open the door, please?” My voice goes softer and Eren nods and unlocks the door. I slip out of the van like it burns. Eren turns the key and the engine turns off. He hops out and grabs my shoulder, turning me around. He pulls me into a tight hug and my heart flips in my chest. It’s beating so loudly that I think he can hear.

“Can we still be friends?” He asks me as if the topic is eggshells and he’s scared of hurting me. This is funny because he already has.

I find myself nodding anyway, even though it isn’t that simple. “Yeah, of course,” I promise him.

It pains me how easy it is to lie to him.

And it pains me how good it feels.

-ˏ͛⑅ ‧̥̥͙‧̥̥ ̥ ̮ ̥ ⊹ ‧̫‧ ⊹ ̥ ̮ ̥ ‧̥̥‧̥̥͙ ⑅ˏ͛-

I CAN’T SLEEP, I DON’T THINK I COULD IF I TRIED. My head is so loud and it won’t stop. I spent another three hours on notes when I got home, working late into the night. The document is a blur of highlighted passages, italicized text and ideologies that suddenly seem pointless to me. I’m a zombie by the time I finish up and close my laptop, the glare of the screen cutting into my eyes and when I blink, it’s still staring at me.

I roll my desk chair back, my back aching with hours' worth of stress and hunched posture and I groan as I crack it loudly. 

I turn and look out the window, it’s started raining now, hinting at a bigger storm to come. Classes will be cancelled tomorrow, I know it. We never have class the day after a storm like this. A storm that shakes the trees and makes the foundations of our building protest and whines and make me feel more alone than ever. I normally spent storms curled up with my parents as we read books on creatures of the sea and watched movies on a laptop that my dad secretly pirated off the internet. I miss them, more than usual. Because no matter what, they always know what to do. And they’d have great advice for me right now, something to make me feel better. But they’re not here, I’m alone, and I hate it.

“Armin?” I hear someone knocking on my door. Mikasa is peeking in through the gap in the door, her hair messy, lacking its familiar pixie cut structure. The hairs stick out every which way like a lion's mane. I gesture for her to come in.

Wind howls through the crack in my window and I can feel a sprinkling of rain across my right cheek. A cold touch that makes me shiver.

She pulls out her laptop and she smiles at me, making herself comfy on my bed. “Come on,” she urges me. She knows I’m tired. It’s obvious that I am, the dark circles under my eyes, the sluggishness of my movements. I’m flooded with a sense of relief and love for the girl cuddling up in my blue blankets, saving room for me to join her and watch a movie together until we fall asleep.

I join her, and she snuggles into my side. I lay my head against the top of hers, and I feel like I’m home. Mikasa is my rock, while Eren is my sky. She holds me down and keeps me in my body, keeping me from floating up into space. I’d always underestimated the rock until she’s the one here for me when everything seems like it’s crumbling down around me and Eren is nowhere to be found.

You’re just confused. His words hit me like a ton of bricks as the opening scene of Ponyo plays. We wouldn’t work. Echoing on a loop in my head. It’s like a knife, sharp and calculated. I think of him in the rice aisle and the forgotten package on the floor. Some store employees picking it up, not realizing what happened there, how important that package of rice is.

Can we still be friends?

I don’t know, Eren.

Can we? 

I take out my phone, sorting through notifications. Nothing from Eren. I’m not surprised.

I take it out and open his contact, and do something a friend would.

Stay safe tonight.  
He leaves me on read, and I realize that we’ll never be able to be just friends again.

In the morning, there’s nothing from him. But Mikasa’s phone lights up with a message.

Stay safe tonight.


End file.
